


Heroic Feats of Weakness

by TheMockingCrows



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Anal Sex, Creampie, Humiliation, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, consensual loss of control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingCrows/pseuds/TheMockingCrows
Summary: When you're a superhero with a recurring supervillain who has nearly identical powers to your own, it should be easy to stop them. When you're a superhero who's kind of dating the supervillain, things get messy. If you've got a humiliation kink? You're just asking for trouble.
Relationships: Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider/Dirk Strider
Comments: 1
Kudos: 65
Collections: Stridercest Secret Santa





	Heroic Feats of Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Stridercest Secret Santa '19.

Dirk couldn’t move. Slim cords had wound around his wrists and ankles, rendering him immobile to his own will, following the tune of the puppeteer in charge of his body. His cheeks flushed with the garish blush markings of the afflicted, and his joints traced with the trails of a ball jointed doll as The Doll Maker exerted his power over him. He felt the core of his heart twitching, beating to a new tempo, matching his temporary master. This was not the first time this had happened, though it would be shameful to admit how often he’d been caught in the villain’s clutches. Even more shameful would be for him to admit how often, like now, the hero had gone willingly into the arms of darkness for a quick fuck.

Dirk, otherwise known as Heart Render, was one of Skaia City’s greatest heroes. His power to control the hearts and emotions of others were useful for mollifying villains until the police could come to make an arrest, and it served him well. ...What didn’t serve him well was a villain who had the precise same power, but without the lock and key of morality serving over it. He made literal puppets out of people, moving them to do his bidding and follow his will once he pulled the strings literally and metaphorically.

They had met out of uniform about six months after beginning their awkward flirtatious dance of fighting in the spotlight, a bit of well timed kiss and don’t tell that only bit them in the ass when secret identities started being found out. Yet they hadn’t stopped. Why stop a good thing? The Doll Maker, or Ambrose as he was known without the mask, knew damn well no jail could hold him and Dirk knew that he’d still manage to get him arrested now and then if they fought on even terms. He could block that heart manipulation if he struggled hard enough, could reverse it and control The Doll Maker’s limbs as if they were his own for a short time, long enough for others to step in and take him down. But behind closed doors, out of the spandex and polyester blends, they were free to cut loose as they saw fit, as free men. ...However, it was when he was still in the suit that was the most arousing, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Tonight had started out as one of those nights, Heart Render defeating Oracle and her nefarious friend Cosmic Dogwood with the assistance of Wings of Hope, Void and Patisserie. They all had said their good jobs and farewells as the authorities took the villainesses in, going their separate ways for the evening. Dirk took to the rooftops, wanting a bit of dark and quiet after the battle and a birds eye view if there was anything else that would require being done by a hero tonight. A man caught his eye, close to the scene of the earlier crime and suddenly, hurriedly, walking away with his hands in his pockets.

A co-conspirator? It was hard to tell who it was. Was it Ghost Trick, perhaps? Or the elder, The Hatter? He seemed on the tall side, there was no way it was Clockwork.. Dirk’s mind raced over other villains he’d not seen in a while, any who might coincide with sightings of Dogwood and Oracle. ...Hass? Was it Hass, perhaps? No, he stood out from a mile away with the hunting outfit, the man didn’t know the meaning of subtle. That only left…

“Ambrose,” Dirk said through gritted teeth as the man in question started to suddenly run. What the fuck had he done NOW? Stealthy as the night despite the pink of his outfit, Dirk sped after Ambrose via rooftop, phasing in and out occasionally with the aid of a flash step or two to keep up when the man started to do just the same. Sometimes being the mirror of this villain was a pain in the neck, but he was also grateful that it actually let him keep pace instead of having to rely solely on flight. Something about running just made him feel better, kept him grounded as it were. Level headed, knowing the flight would never let him fall if he somehow ever missed a leap.

At the end of a row of buildings Dirk lifted off his feet briefly to try looking around, scanning the ground with narrowed eyes through his shades, trying to detect even the barest of movement. Come on… where was he? It hadn’t been more than a few seconds, how could he have lost track of him already? Knowing it was Ambrose? Pretty easily, the guy was a fucking snake when he wanted to be, but it was still annoying to admit he couldn’t find him. Dirk sank down to his feet and sighed in annoyance before a hand clasped over his mouth from behind, pulling him back against a broad chest.

“Boo.”

“Mmph!”

A second hand settled atop the heart marking on Dirk’s chest before sliding down the spandex that covered his stomach, tantalizingly close to going towards his groin. He heard a soft chuckle, that warm voice he knew so well by now, just beside his ear before he felt lips at his neck, followed by the sting of teeth.

“Decided to follow me, mm? Thought you would. You’re the only one of your little group that ever seems to spot me these days. It’s almost like you’re obsessed,” teased Ambrose, pressing harder with his fingers over Dirk’s mouth till he forced his lips open and sunk two fingers into his mouth instead.

“Igch no’ ‘aht,” he garbled, biting the fingers for a moment before letting them in. Shit. They were alone, right? A second would be okay, they were alone up here, in the dark, nobody would find out. Right? The name Puppet Master was an apt name in Ambrose’s case even without his powers: Dirk was already coming under thrall and reacting to his fingers movements as if on cue.

“It’s not, huh? What’d you think you were gonna accomplish followin’ me tonight? I’m not in costume, it’d be against our little rules we’ve got in place, right Cupid?”

Dirk growled at the nickname and bit Ambrose’s fingers again in annoyance, chewing halfheartedly till the man laughed from behind him.

“Come on, don’t be bitchy. Really though, what did you think you were gonna do? Catch me and force me to confess to the crime of watchin’ the kiddos do their thing earlier? Hold me down and wait till Void caught me in a snare or your boy toy Wings could hope at me?”

Tensing, Dirk arched his back and strained against the grip at his waist, going still when the hand snaked flatly down to his dick and cupped it, kneading gently. Mollified, Dirk went still again, feeling himself growing hard. It was difficult not to when the situation was just feeding into his more private proclivities. They were alone on the rooftop and in the dark, yes, but it wasn’t as if there weren’t people around below and other people capable of flight nearby. At any moment someone might see him in this precarious position and-

Ambrose slipped his fingers out of Dirk’s mouth and wiped the spit on his cheek before trailing down to clasp his throat, keeping him still as his other hand worked along his stiffening cock through the spandex.

“Besides. I knew you’d be there, and if anyone was gonna spot me, it’d be you,” Ambrose said near his ear again. “What do you say, hero? Wanna waste an hour with a random guy on the street? Or wanna keep this quick.”

“Is this seriously just a bootycall,” Dirk muttered, not sounding nearly as upset about it as he should have.

“Do you want it to be?” asked Ambrose curiously. “Or do you wanna make it an entire evenin’ and go to dinner or somethin’? My treat.”

“And if I want the date?”

“We can get a bite to eat after a quickie,” Ambrose reasoned. “You want to pose for me nice this time, or should I help again?”

“You’re incorrigible,” Dirk hissed.

“And you’re about to come in your spidey suit, Cupid, you ain’t foolin’ anyone,” Ambrose said as he worked his hand harder along Dirk’s cock through the fabric. “C’mon, I know you love this kinda shit and it’s been a while since we had an outdoors round. Right outside where anyone might find you gettin’ ploughed by a super villain and beggin’ for more like a slut,” he cooed.

Dirk grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, face warming. Fuck.. he was right. Fuck, he was right and worse it sounded like an excellent idea. Almost getting caught, being in a compromised position, being used out in the open like that. All of it was shit he liked. Even the nickname didn’t set him off this time, just adding to the moment, working him up even further.

Fuck it.

“...I can pose.”

“You can pose, huh?” Ambrose asked, releasing his mesmerizing grip on Dirk’s length and squeezing his throat a bit instead, feeling the adam’s apple work against his palm. “I dunno, you’re pretty high strung.. Might need to string you up proper, make sure you don’t move for me. Can’t fuck a movin’ target.”

Dirk whined faintly under his breath and lifted his chin. “Come on, I can do just fine. I won’t move.”

“Says the guy that can fly when he wants to. I think not. I think you’d look better all strung up for me. Would you like that? Bein’ a cocksleeve while you’re in full thrall? I might even let you make noises.”

Groaning, Dirk squirmed till Ambrose let him go, and lifted off his feet to turn around mid-air to face him. He was a mess already, flushed, hard in his suit, lips parted to breathe heavier, mind racing. If they were going to do this, they needed to be fast, and the more that Ambrose had talked the more interested in the quickie Dirk had become. Moving them further from the edge of the building for privacy, Dirk planted down on his feet and lifted his arms.

“Alright. Fine. Hit me, I’m ready.”

Ambrose lifted an eyebrow and smirked, amused. “That’s it? No fightin’, hero? I don’t have to bend you to my nefarious whi-”

“For fucks sake, I already gave up, can we just get on with this before someone comes this way?” Dirk glowered.

“Aw, baby, you’re so sweet when you talk like that,” Ambrose chuckled, lifting his hands. Pink light flooded around his fingertips before shooting Dirk’s direction in strings, hitting him in the chest before they splayed out to the rest of him. The joint marks were appearing, leaving Dirk’s body feeling stiff and mostly immobile. The flush at his cheeks grew and rounded, intensified, and finally the cords manifested at his wrists and ankles. His heart stuttered briefly, slowing, then starting to beat at a different tempo. The one he knew best aside from his own based on how many times they’d done this now, Ambrose grinning in amusement as the final bit of power was given up.

“There we go.. Look at you, all done up so pretty. Pity, the suit’s still in the way. Hm. Should we strip you neatly, or mess you up? Make it impossible for you to sneak away after,” he mused, stepping closer to trace a hand along Dirk’s face and neck, watching his eyes. Even in thrall, his eyes were bright orange and expressive, talking more than he ever would verbally. Especially when he was like this.

“Let’s go with messy,” he reasoned, slipping his fingers into the neckline of Dirk’s uniform and gripping tight before ripping downwards at an angle to display the altered appearance of his shoulders, the lines on his torso that mimicked a ball jointed doll, and the embedded heart pattern reverse to what his insignia normally was.

It was Ambrose’s territory now, this body, and judging by the tent in the bottom half Dirk damn well knew it.

He made a soft tutting sound as he continued to rip and tear fabric open ever lower. “Y’know, you’re supposed to wear a dancers belt with this kinda getup, Cupid. Keep the sausage tacked down, don’t let it loose to scare people. Don’t wanna rescue a granny and give her a fully outlined view of the boys, right?” The fabric reached Dirk’s hips and he shivered, hair on his arms standing up and nipples going taut in the cool night air. Only half of his reaction was from the weather. “Or maybe you’re into that sort of thing, how should I know. I’m just some creep who gets to play with you a lot like his favorite toy.”

When Dirk was bare to the world, shreds of his uniform left hanging around his string bound ankles, Ambrose stepped back to stare at him. Dirk was splayed out midair and bare to the open air around him, every inch of him electric and alive. His heart wanted to hammer, strained to beat at its own pace, but kept the slow and steady pace of Ambrose’s in his chest.

Anyone could see him up here, if they were looking. Another hero, a villain or villainess, a civilian.. And if anyone found out what could he say? That it had been an accident? That he’d been caught by surprise? They might believe it if he lied, but not once Ambrose whipped out the photos he liked to keep of their activities. It would all be over in an instant then, and the constant reassurance that things were on a knife’s edge just made Dirk harder.

“I’m gonna let you talk a bit, now. Don’t make me regret it,” Ambrose said, making a zipping gesture across his own mouth. Dirk moaned as his first sounds, squirmed midair like a worm in the strings, and then hung there. His cock dripped, already eager for action that he may or may not even be getting. It was hard to tell with Ambrose sometimes just how thoroughly he’d want a quickie to go. Tonight he seemed to be in a good mood though, snapping a quick picture to enjoy later of Dirk’s toy-like appearance before clasping his dick in one hand to steadily pump at him.

“That all you’ve got to say for yourself? A porn star moan?” Ambrose asked as he continued to move his fist. “Suddenly at a loss for words, or is all the blood in your dick already?”

“Stop teasing already, we’re running out of time,” Dirk groaned out.

“Pssh. There’s plenty of time,” Ambrose hummed, slowing his jerking motion and stepping back. “Well. I’ve got plenty of time,” he corrected, guiding the strings downwards to make Dirk’s legs bend till he was down on his knees, back to the city. He fished his cock out of his own pants and stroked a few times to catch up to Dirk’s hardness, then tapped the tip against the waiting set of pouting lips. Dirk stared up at him, annoyed, but waited for the cue.

“Am I gonna get to move, or..?”

“Hmm…. Nah,” Ambrose decided with a shake of his head. He clasped either side of Dirk’s head and stroked his jaw, tipped his head back to smooth hair back from his brow. It was a familiar, tender gesture, and one that he took pride in. You know, before he clamped either side of his face more securely and lowered his mouth over his dick at the same time he rocked his hips, carefully fucking in between his lips.

Dirk could taste him then, salty and a bit bitter on the back of his tongue as he was penetrated a few slow times, then to the back of his throat when Ambrose picked up the pace after a moment. He didn’t need him to go slower. Even if they had more time, he didn’t need the extra preparation, used to this action from experience. How many times had he been strung up like this and used? It was hard to keep count really, and as Dirk tried to swallow him down, it was harder to care. It was pushing all of his buttons in the best possible way, down on his knees and exposed, unable to move even when his leg felt cramped as Ambrose stood over him. He could feel his own neglected dick twitching, continuing to ooze pre-come steadily beneath him. 

Ambrose didn’t stay as long as Dirk had expected him to, preparing himself mentally to swallow or close his eyes for a quick face painting. Yet before either of those could happen he was being lifted again by the strings and turned around, dick out to the city, left to the breeze as he heard shuffling behind him. Ambrose really had come prepared, hadn’t he? He knew the sound of a lube packet being ripped open by teeth, the wet slick of fluid on a dick that he’d just been sampling. He knew the press of thick fingers against his taint that slid back further to tease and work him open, stroking and rubbing before rougher fucking with his curled fingers that left Dirk panting and wishing to fuck he could squirm.

There was no chance with Ambrose’s control over him however, body rigid and doll-like save for his mouth and vocal chords, weight hanging from wrist and ankle being subtly adjusted while his lover worked him over.

“Like that, huh? Half expected you to be looser today, that you’d play with yourself before you went crime fighting on the off chance you’d run into me,” Ambrose crooned. “Think that might be a new thing from now on? Mm..? Wonder if you could use your heart powers properly with a plug inside you.”

Dirk felt dizzy, overstimulated, and gratefully caught his breath when the villain withdrew his fingers to wipe his hand off on a scrap of Dirk’s uniform. The reprieve didn’t last long however, as shortly after he was bent just a fraction more and penetrated, hips grasped tight and upper body left to dangle by the arms.

They’d done this before. Multiple times in different places outside, but never so close to a former crime scene. Dirk could almost swear he heard voices somewhere, someone spying, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it enough to care. All there was now was a thick cock slipping in and out of his body, hammering his prostate, the sensation of drool cooling at the edges of his mouth from a messy face fucking session, and Ambrose in his ear murmuring filthy things every so often between huffed harried breaths.

They didn’t have much time. But there was always time for a quick creampie, apparently.

Ambrose was considerate enough to release his grasp on Dirk once he’d finished, letting his body sag tiredly as the control left him, taking his dick in hand to finish him off manually instead. Dirk came onto the very edge of the building, with some voice in the back of his head wondering if he’d missed and it had gone flying and hit some poor schmuck below, would they just assume it was birdshit and call it a night.

Cold air rushed around him as the high wore off, come creeping down one thigh, body exhausted. Dirk could feel every hair standing on end, electrified, as if he were suddenly going to be shocked by a bolt of lightning from some unseen source. His heart hammered and his mind raced. Suddenly everything felt too open, too out of control, too intense. He covered his body with his folded arms, trying to make himself small, trying to hold himself together, trying to-

Ambrose carefully dropped his hoodie over Dirk’s head and tugged down, covering him in the pre-heated fabric entirely. Dirk didn’t wait to stuff his arms through the armholes and turn, already knowing he was going to be picked up and held close, comforted. As intense as things got, as bad or as good as things felt, the second it stopped feeling that good Dirk knew that he’d be caught and stabilized. He trusted the villain to not only keep him covered and safe, but to use his blurring speed to get him home and inside where it was warmer and away from prying eyes. Playtime was over for the day.

“You did great,” Ambrose murmured, kissing the side of Dirk’s head. “Did perfect, Cupid. Best doll around. Prettiest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.”

Dirk felt tired, and knew that the comforting routine ahead of him would be more than simply soothing, but cathartic on an almost spiritual level. He smirked and tipped his head back to look at Ambrose’s face.

“Stop calling me Cupid, stupid.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too you dick.”


End file.
